Poetry Blog by Marie-Anne
on RSVP (Mon, 2 Mar 2015 02:15 am)
on Missing a Friend (Thu, 26 Feb 2015 06:52 pm)
I am standing tall on the mountain pass
Looking over this inner landscape of mine.
And the vertiginous drop of the waterfall of my emotions
Surrenders down from the smooth mirror-like lake of my soul.
Up there in the heights between the two peaks,
I can just make out the depth of the pool
Where I once plunged and almost drowned.
As I submerged myself in it
Tuesday 22nd September 2015 10:19 pm
Monday 1st June 2015 11:09 pm
Trapped in a small cocoon,
Long have I been waiting
During many a moon
For this second coming.
I was wrapped up all warm
In a shroud of cotton
I was merely a worm,
In a land all forgotten,
A changeling, in this hold,
The cosiest of jails.
My wings were in a fold,
A mesh of tangled sails,
Hidden from all to see,
Colours of vibrant blue.
Now is the time for me
To arise and be true.
Monday 2nd March 2015 11:27 am
When you write a note, letter, poem, or a plight,
And you know it to be made of ground breaking stuff,
Rising up to the sky in emotional flight,
You wonder and ponder: will these words be enough
To raise a smile, a cry, a chuckle or a laugh
Or even a sneer, a twitch of the eyebrows?
Was the writing abrupt, awkward or even tough?
Did it hold any judgement, of the kind that grows
To be misun...
Sunday 1st March 2015 8:17 pm
O how I miss you, old friend -
Like the leaf misses its branch,
Like the sand misses the sea,
Like the sky misses the rainbow,
Like sadness misses salt tears.
When I see you in fleeting moments -
I am a tree finding its roots,
I am a cloud finding its storm,
I am a drop finding its ocean,
I am a smile finding its bliss.
And when I leave you all over again -
Thursday 26th February 2015 4:46 pm
Les bureaux d'un hebdomadaire
De nature extraordinaire
Furent aujourd'hui assaillis...
Ces assassins ont bien failli
Violemment faire, à cette adresse,
Choir la liberté de la presse
Du bout de leurs armes fatales.
Voici l'erreur fondamentale,
Que connaissent les journalistes,
Dessinateurs et satiristes :
Au nom de Dieu, ou pour soi-même,
On ne peut tuer, parce qu'on n'aime
Pas une idée autr...
Wednesday 7th January 2015 11:33 pm
The fierce wind blows, yet the dew won't dry
On the petals of the lone rose blossom.
Sparse thorns stand raw, achy reminders
Of the wondrous lost dream of yesterday,
When the two golden birds sat on this branch
Staring into the infinite mirror of their eyes,
Rejoicing in the warmth of their evening song,
Delighting in each other's pure presence,
Basking in the divine light of Nature,
And looking up to the ...
Wednesday 7th January 2015 11:22 pm
The wind has tautened the ship's sail,
Ready for the deep, deep ocean
This endless pit of emotion;
The hard wood creaks, the sea-gulls wail.
The tall white ship sets off today
Pushed by the strong wind, blowing soft.
Ride the high wave, slice through the spray,
Where hull meets water, clouds aloft.
Let us both sail this ship one day;
You, hauling ropes, spinning the wheel,
I, in the galley, cook a meal,
Wednesday 7th January 2015 11:19 pm
The feather crashes to the ground.
On one leg stands a single crane.
The snow falls without a sound,
And birds quieten during the rain.
Awaiting words to read out loud,
To fill the silence like a shroud
Over my nose, eyes, mouth and ears.
If I don't feel, sound disappears.
There is no noise in the background
No more white stuff, hum or drumming:
The sound of nothing, black and round,
Knowledge of all that is...
Wednesday 7th January 2015 3:46 pm
In the mirror I see your face
In the birds I see your heart
In the clouds I see your mind
In the rain I see your tears
In the ocean I see your depth
In the trees I see your strength
In the rainbow I see your beauty
In the wind I see your breath
In the sky I see your soul
No insight sees deeper than no sight.
Wednesday 7th January 2015 3:30 pm
The snow falls in opaque lashings
Over the Welsh hillside
Muddy brown lambs bleat sadly in the dawn-stricken valley
As the wind blows powder down relentlessly.
Straddling the immaculate mountain pass,
A hawk flaps serenely overhead.
Among lonely grey hoof prints on the white ground,
Frozen grass barely twitches in the cool breeze.
As silence and darkness descend,
The time has come to depart from this froze...
Wednesday 7th January 2015 3:26 pm
From the bridge of your dreams
You see yourself on the other side
Illuminated for a brief moment.
You walk away from the illusion,
Deciding to be only one part.
And yet at the very last moment
You turn around and look back
At the silhouetted image of you
In the distance, raising a right hand.
And you wave back with the left
Because you are the reflection
And this is the connection
As far as the mind can see.
Wednesday 7th January 2015 3:22 pm